


The Darkness and the Light

by sniperct



Series: Alternate Encounters - Elsamaren [9]
Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Beauty and the Beast Elements, Curse Breaking, Curses, Demon Sex, Demons, F/F, Falling In Love, Horns, Magical Sandwiches, Tails, Wings, modern elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:54:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23268055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sniperct/pseuds/sniperct
Summary: An eternal blizzard, a frozen sister, a palace made of ice and the alluring demon that dwells within.But is the monster really a monster? Honeymaren is not so certain of that, and with time running out before a decades old curse becomes irreversible she wants to show the monster that there’s still something human left inside.
Relationships: Elsa/Honeymaren (Disney)
Series: Alternate Encounters - Elsamaren [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1836310
Comments: 76
Kudos: 238





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [reneeliddell](https://reneeliddell.tumblr.com/tagged/demon%21Elsa)'s Demon!Elsa art. (link generally nsfw ;))

Wind howled outside the little airplane’s cabin, the Cessna’s engine whining as the pilot struggled with the controls. Honeymaren didn’t understand where this storm had come from; the reports had been clear weather the whole way through, but as soon as she’d crossed into the mountains a blizzard had formed. It had come up out of nowhere; one second the night sky was clear with an endless vista of stars over craggy peaks, and then there’d been a flash of light as she found herself in the storm.

Visibility was _nil_ and there was the very real danger of the wings icing up, which was almost as bad as the threat of slamming into a mountain. In hindsight, it had been really stupid to make this last trip, but they’d needed the money. They’d needed…

The howling wind changed pitch, an eerie, almost haunted sound. A trick of her ears or her nerves, but she could have sworn it almost sounded like a woman singing.

Her plane shook and shuddered, the engine stalling for several heartstopping seconds before sputtering back to life. 

And then it stalled again, just as a gust of wind tore into the plane. Metal and fabric twisted and she went into a spin. The Cessna bounced off of something, slamming hard into a bank of snow before sliding down a mountain. Below her, Honeymaren thought she saw a shimmering blue castle, just as the plane plummeted off of a cliff.

It was the wind that Honeymaren heard next, her senses returning to her in fits and starts. Low and mournful, with a sultry tone that reminded her more of a woman singing than a horrifying blizzard. She tried to look around, head foggy and vision blurred. Her ribs ached and she was pretty sure there was blood in her eyes.

Footsteps crunched in the snow, and groaning, Maren turned her head. She blinked her eyes clear, rubbing at them with a heavy hand. Nearby was the remains of her plane, tangled and smashed so badly that it was a miracle she was still alive. The engine had completely crushed the cabin and the only reason Maren knew she was alive and not dead was the pain.

Through the storm, a figure approached her, moving slowly, the fabric of a cape blowing violently in the wind.

Something about the silhouette seemed wrong somehow, but Honeymaren couldn’t really focus on what that was. Her mind was fuzzy, and she just wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Strong arms lifted her, and her head lolled against the skin of a bare shoulder colder than her own but still much warmer than the swirling storm.

Honeymaren could see the shining palace, barely visible in the snow. She turned her head, seeing a long, golden braid and a strong, pale jaw. But her vision faded in and out and so did her consciousness and the next thing she saw was a tall ceiling. 

Honeymaren pushed herself up by her elbows, staring at a ceiling made entirely of ice. Her ribs protested, so she flopped back down into warm furs and pulled them closer. Her mind was still foggy, but she remembered bits and pieces from the crash, and the image of her ruined livelihood was seared forever in her memory.

And so was that person she’d seen in the snow. Just as her mind turned to that, she heard the click-clack of heels on ice as a distorted figure appeared at an icey door. The door swung open, and Honeymaren’s eyes went wide.

A pale woman stood there, tall and elegant, a glittering blue gown clinging to her body like a second skin. Honeymaren realized she was staring and lifted her eyes from curvy hips to, well, okay staring at her savior’s breasts was probably not that polite and -- horns. Those were horns.

The woman had _horns_. Actual honest to god _horns_!

They rose from either side of her brow to a height of six inches, before curling back and looping around so that razor sharp points were angled forward. Honeymaren looked down again, trying to see what kind of legs the woman had. Besides deadly looking stilettos, the rest of her looked normal. That is, she did until Honeymaren caught sight of part of a pointed tail that appeared from behind the woman, lashing like an annoyed cat.

“Hello?” She asked, not quite believing what she was seeing. Maren looked into the woman’s eyes, a shade of blue that she’d never quite seen before. They were almost more intimidating than the horns, and very enrapturing. “Did I … interrupt some kind of costume party?”

The woman snorted, the corners of her lips turning up so slightly that Maren was probably imagining it. Her voice was cool, icy, just like the palace around them. “You fell from the sky.”

Again, Maren tried to sit up. More slowly this time, careful of her ribs. “Not my best landing.”

Click. Clack.

Click. Clack.

She approached Maren until she was right in front of her, and then leaned over. Again, Maren was distracted by how absurdly beautiful she was, horns included. The neckline of her dress left little to the imagination, and Maren’s imagination thought that those breasts would be a perfect handful.

A long finger touched Maren’s chin and tilted her head up. The woman smiled at her, eyes so stunning that it was a bit like trying to stare into the sun. If the sun was made of ice. She sounded amused as she asked, “What is your name?”

“Honeymaren,” she replied, and immediately kicked herself for it. Didn’t names give powers in all the fairytales? Had she just screwed herself over? Was she now bound--

“I’m Elsa.” Elsa’s fingers trailed along Honeymaren’s cheek, and then stroked the shell of her ear. Honeymaren immediately felt herself melting and tried to focus her eyes on Elsa.

“Pretty name.”

“Why are you in my domain, _Honey_?”

“Uhm.”

Elsa’s other hand grasped the front of Maren’s shirt and then she hauled her to her feet. Her ribs jostled and she bit back a cry. Elsa tilted her head, steadying Maren with two strong hands. “You have no idea who I _am_ , do you?”

“I’m afraid not.” Her vision swam, and she had to grab onto Elsa’s arms to stay upright. Elsa’s skin was cool, but not cold, and Maren ran her hand down her arm without really thinking about it.

Conflict flashed across Elsa’s face. Slowly, she let go of Honeymaren and stepped back. “When you are healed, you must leave.”

“Uhm.” Oh she sounded so intelligent, didn’t she. That tail lashed behind Elsa, reminding Honeymaren there was something distinctly inhuman about this woman.

Like the horns weren’t a sign or something. She stared up at them. They were a blue so light as to almost be white, and didn’t look entirely smooth, with ridges along the inside curve. It was so tempting to touch them.

“If you have a phone,” she finally managed to say, knowing her cell had been lost in the crash, “I can be out of your hair as soon as the storm lets up.”

Elsa laughed mirthlessly. “The storm will always rage, Honey, and whatever a phone is will not help you in this.”

Whatever a … Honeymaren’s brow furrowed as she tried to figure out what _that_ meant. “Look, I didn’t mean to intrude on whatever domain you have here, Elsa. I crashed my plane, it’s a miracle I’m alive.”

“Are you hungry?” Elsa asked.

Blinking at the sudden question, Maren opened her mouth to say no, but the rumbling in her stomach answered for her. “…Guess I am?”

“This way.” She turned and walked out of the room, leaving Maren with only the memory of swaying hips and lashing tail.

She shook herself out of it and carefully followed. The floor appeared to also be made of ice, but it didn’t feel that slippery to her. The entire palace seemed to be made of ice, and yet Honeymaren didn’t actually feel all that cold.

Maybe she was dead. There were worse ways to spend eternity than in the company of a sexy demon succubus or whatever Elsa was.

A demon.

Elsa had horns and a tail. And a figure that came right out of Honeymaren’s most erotic dreams. She rubbed at her face, and followed after the … woman? Demon?

They were on the second floor, and she looked over the railing. In the center of the main foyer, in front of impressive and beautiful double doors, was a life-like sculpture of a woman, carved from ice. She was standing, staring up the stairs with a hopeful expression on her face, and even from here Maren could see the intricate details of the scarf around her shoulders and the designs in her dress.

Elsa’s tail wrapped around Maren’s arm and yanked so hard she thought it would dislocate her shoulder. Maren grabbed it. “Hey! I was just admiring the sculpture.”

“Come along,” Elsa said, calmly, though her breath had caught when Maren had touched her tail.

“Is that your work?”

Elsa turned and glared at her with such fury that Maren shut her mouth. Despite the anger, her voice remained cool, though sharper. “Come. Along.”

Maren decided that kind of cool anger might actually be scarier than yelling, so she let go of the tail and obeyed. She studied Elsa’s back as she followed her. It was bare from her shoulders, all the way down to the curve of her rear and where her tail emerged. But the tension in her muscles belied her cool tone of voice. 

So the statue was a sore point. Got it.

The kitchen was, as Maren expected, made of ice. It was extravagant, exactly the kind of kitchen one would have in a castle. Maren wanted to know how anyone could possibly cook anything in an ice-oven, until she realized that the oven was made of stone and not ice, and there was a fire place with a small pot. Those small details told Maren a few things, which she filed away to think about later.

How neither thing melted the castle was also a question to think about later, though Maren took note of the fact that the meal prepping items couldn’t possibly feed more than one or two people. 

Elsa was alone here, and even if she was some kind of demon, that just made Honeymaren sad.

Elsa gestured to the ice box. “Help yourself.” She walked out of the kitchen before Maren could say anything in response.

Settling on putting together a sandwich--how did she have sandwich ingredients?--Maren struggled to come up with an explanation for what was happening. Obviously she’d hit her head in the crash, because demonic women simply didn’t exist. The horns were a trick of the light, the tail an overactive imagination, those hips every fantasy Honeymaren had ever had.

That was all.

Food in hand, she slipped out of the kitchen to do a little exploration. On this floor there were maybe a dozen rooms and from earlier she thought there were maybe four floors at most. There was a spiral staircase that linked all the floors, beautiful in it’s elegance, much like the mistress of the place.

Maren stopped at the railing again, spotting Elsa walking towards the sculpture from earlier. She moved slowly, almost reverently, coming to a stop directly in front of it. Elsa lifted her hand, brushing the cheek tenderly. And then, careful of her horns, she pressed her forehead against the sculpture’s.


	2. II

Maren had found a little room on the north side of the palace, with a cushioned couch that she’d settled into. After several days trapped by the storm, her ribs were starting to feel better, but she knew better than to push it -- too many times rough housing with her brother had taught her how to take care of herself when hurt.

She’d barely seen Elsa since that first night, only catching glimpses of her out of the corner of her eye. Honeymaren wondered if she was being stalked.

There was another fur blanket in here, which she promptly wrapped around herself as she took in the room. This area felt a little more homely and a lot less dramatic than other parts of the ice palace. Maren could see someone lounging in here and reading a good book, and in fact there was a pile of tomes on one of the end tables, most of them philosophical in nature and all of them looking like they belonged in a collection or museum, not laying around on a coffee table.

An ice sculpture of a reindeer stood in one corner, with a snowman of all things on its back.

Elsa didn’t actually strike Honeymaren as the kind of woman to build a snowman, and yet it had her unmistakable touch. Carefully, she got up and approached the reindeer.

Up close, the detail was _incredible_. Maren could make out each and every strand of fur, and all the details of its face. It was as though someone had taken a living reindeer and frozen it in time.

Maren lifted her eyes to the snowman, only to find a pair of eyes looking right back at her. 

“Hi.”

Maren screamed, scrambling backwards and tripping over the fur blanket. She fell to the ground in a heap, ribs exploding in pain and leaving her vision a dull haze. When it cleared, the snowman had hopped off the reindeer and was walking towards her. “I’m Olaf, and I like warm hugs!”

“What the fuck,” Maren breathed, pressing a hand to her side and staring at the walking, talking snowman.

“Uh. I’m not allowed to say that word.” He sat down next to her. “You’re new.”

“I crashed my plane.”

“What’s a plane?”

Well, a snowman probably wouldn’t know what a plane was. “A machine that allows people to fly.”

“Oh. That sounds safe.” He grabbed his feet and wriggled them around. “Are you here to break the curse?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

He lifted his twiggy hands and gestured around them as if that explained everything. “I’m a talking snowman and there’s a frozen reindeer in the corner.”

Maren’s eyes snapped to the reindeer. “Oh my _god_.” 

Quickly, she scrambled to her feet, wincing at the pain as she did so, and ran for the door. Her shoes slipped on the ice and she grabbed onto the frame, using it and her momentum to turn out into the hallway. As fast as she dared, she rushed towards the spiral staircase and flew down it. 

Hitting the ground floor, Maren ran for the grand double doored entrance, but the ice here was slicker than in the rest of the palace. she lost her balance and flailed out of control, colliding with the sculpture of the woman.

For a half second, the sculpture wobbled, and Maren scrambled to keep it from toppling over. Up close, the woman’s face was incredibly realistic, every hair lovingly carved, her face as detailed as if she were alive. Just like the _reindeer_.

A shriek ripped through the palace, so pained and so filled with grief that Honeymaren’s heart broke at the sound of it. A heavy shadow passed over her and then sharp-nailed hands closed around Maren’s throat as she was shoved against a wall.

Elsa loomed over her, twin bat-like wings spread behind her, eyes wide and nose flared. She pushed Maren up the wall until her feet dangled beneath her and she thought she might choke. The demon’s voice echoed a sort of fearful rage, breaking on the last word as she shouted, “Stay away from my _sister_!”

Maren’s eyes flicked to the sculpture, then back to Elsa’s face. The demon could choke her to death, or snap her neck; or freeze her into a statue. And yet there was remarkable control in Elsa’s body, despite the emotion roiling in her eyes. Her wings trembled, ever so slightly.

Maren rasped, “I’m sorry. I slipped, it was an accident.”

The pain in Elsa’s eyes started to dim and slowly, Maren lifted her hand and began to pry the demon’s fingers from her neck. Elsa let her, until the last finger was free and Maren dropped to the ground much more suddenly than she expected. She ended up clinging onto Elsa to keep her balance. 

Once she was steady, Elsa pulled away, turning and walking to inspect the sculpture. Her absence left a strange void in Maren’s chest, and she stood there a moment, watching Elsa. Elsa tenderly ran her hands over the woman’s face, arms, inspecting each finger and every limb. Looking for damage, Maren realized. Cracks. 

What had happened here? She started to walk, and nearly slipped again. Elsa’s head shot up, and she sighed before tapping her foot lightly on the ground. The ice immediately became less perfectly clear, with enough texture to allow Maren to walk without falling on her ass. She gave Elsa a sheepish smile, but even so, she didn’t dare get much closer. She glanced at the exit and then … took a step towards Elsa instead. “So what’s this about a curse?”

“Let me guess. _Olaf_.” Elsa sighed, and then in a brittle voice, she said, “What does it look like? I’m a monster.”

“The horns _are_ kind of hot,” Maren assured her, still trying to figure out where the wings had come from. _Everything_ about Elsa was hot, which was kind of dangerous, but right now she wasn’t actually thinking too much about that or at least trying _not_ to think. She actually wanted to know more about her. 

Elsa stared at her a moment as if trying to ascertain her true motivations, then nodded towards the exit. “Go ahead and try to leave. The storm will kill you before the sun rises, and there’s nothing I can do to protect you out there.”

Maren hadn’t thought about that, but now that she listened she could hear the howling wind. “You really want to _protect_ me? Didn’t you just say you were a monster?”

With narrowed eyes, Elsa’s tail lashed out, wrapping around Maren’s waist and pulling her close. Her arms slid around Maren and for a heartbeat Maren felt the overwhelming urge to comfort her. Or kiss her. Was Elsa really a succubus?

Then with a single beat of Elsa’s wings they shot up through the palace.

They reached the top floor and Elsa set her down on the staircase, landing next to her. For another heartbeat, her hand was steady at the small of Maren’s back and Maren was too dazed to think about why that felt so good. 

Then Elsa shoved Maren through a shattered door.

Beyond the threshold was chaos, frozen in time.

A chandelier lay shattered on the floor, and a half dozen armed men stood around it as frozen solid as Elsa’s sister. Every last one had been impaled on shards of ice and several had had their limbs broken off. Elsa turned around, holding her arms and wings out as if to say ‘you wanted to see the monster?’

Maren swallowed as she took in the site of what had clearly been some kind of battle. “These are soldiers, aren’t they?”

“Yes. They came for me after I froze my sister. They told me I needed to die because of what I was and what I’d done.” Elsa stalked around a princely looking man with sideburns, dragging her nails along his side, and then casually snapped his arm off. “Queen Elsa, the ice devil of Arendelle.”

“That’s probably overkill, but you _were_ defending yourself.”

Elsa stared at her with those impossible eyes again. She tossed the arm to the side, and it broke loudly into several pieces. “What if I added you to my collection, Honey?”

She’d hated that nickname for most of her life, but when it fell from Elsa’s lips it sent shivers through Maren that had nothing to do with the cold. And so she shivered again and tried to ignore that feeling. This wasn’t the time. “Is that what you really want? Because there’s nothing I can do to stop you from killing me. I’m at your mercy. So if you’re going to freeze me, at least put me some place nice. I liked that room with the reindeer and the couch.”

She took a few steps towards Elsa, and then struck a heroic pose, like she was about to fight a dragon. “How’s this?” 

Then she changed to an almost seductive, sexy pose, something she could almost imagine the demon doing. “I’ve never been a sexpot but this could be fun.” 

She changed to a casual one, like she was leaning against a reindeer. “Or this? Or maybe something a little silly.”

This time she reenacted the time her brother had been caught with his boyfriend, sheet pulled up and mouth in a wide O shape.

Elsa sucked on her lips, her shoulders shook just a little before a short, slightly crazed laugh escaped her mouth.

“So the Ice Queen can laugh.” Maren smiled, walking towards her. Elsa didn’t move away, even when Maren put a hand on her arm. Colder than most people, but not freezing. “I know it’s only been a few days. God knows it takes me little while to warm up to someone new. But … if you want to talk…?”

“You’re either brave or stupid,” Elsa said, eyes moving from the hand on her arm to Maren’s face. “I’m not sure which.” She grabbed Maren’s wrist and lifted it from her arm, then used that to pull Maren against her. She leaned in, moving her head so that her lips brushed Maren’s ear as she whispered, “Is this warm enough?”

By all rights, Maren should be terrified. Terrified of some kind of demon of ice and snow, of being held in this place trapped by an endless winter, of being killed or made into a statue for Elsa’s amusement.

But she felt _warm_. 

A thought occurred to her, that this was some strange fever dream as she lay dying out in the snow or in that last instant of the plane crash. Her mind giving her something, anything to make the end easier. It was at least creative. Loneliness radiated off of Elsa so strongly Maren could almost see it in waves and maybe it was a reflection of her own isolation. All she had was her brother; her work precluded most other relationships.

Elsa’s nose nuzzled into her ear, head dipping, lips faintly touching Maren’s jaw and the tip of her pointed tail traced an erotic trail up the back of Maren’s leg. 

Her nails dug into Maren’s side as she propelled her out of the room and down the stairs, lips kissing more firmly at her jaw and ear. Maren’s mind grew foggy as one of those hands pushed under her shirt, sliding up her back. It was _chilly_ , but she didn’t mind. She could barely think, let alone talk, but as the backs of her knees hit something, she managed to croak out, “What … what would break the curse? What if I could help?”

Everything went still, until Elsa slowly pulled her head back and stared at Maren. That conflict had returned, and she looked oddly pensive for a succubus or whatever. And then her expression shifted, a sad cruelty in her gaze.

“True love,” Elsa said, voice as cold as death and yet with a hint of mockery, “is the only way to thaw a frozen heart.”


	3. III

“How long have I been here,” Honeymaren wondered aloud. Things between her and Elsa had been a little tense at first, after the whole situation with her sister. Elsa had backed off after that, leaving Maren conflicted. Her dreams in recent days certainly didn’t help her confusion.

She sat on a chair, looking out through a closed window to the blizzard beyond.

“Three weeks, three days, fifteen hours and thirty-two minutes.”

“Thank you, Olaf.”

The snowman still unnerved her and she couldn’t quite piece together exactly where he’d come from. Elsa wouldn’t share any details and Olaf himself didn’t seem to know.

But he was at least easier to talk to. She sighed, leaning her elbows on her knees and staring out the closed window to the storm beyond. It had been blowing since the night of her crash, non-stop, and yet the snow never seemed to pile up. By all rights it should have been halfway up the palace by now. 

But that could probably be explained by the magical demon Queen that resided in this castle. Honeymaren wrapped her arms around herself and sank back into the chair. They’d fallen into a sort of routine; Elsa, or more often Olaf, would come invite her to breakfast with the demon. Sometimes there would be lunch but more often than not Honeymaren would be on her own until dinner. She’d explored as much of the castle as she could, avoiding the chamber of death at the top. 

Twice, she’d tried to brave the outdoors, only to be pushed back in by the sheer ferocity of the storm. Ryder and the rest of her family were probably out of their minds with worry, while she lounged around in the lap of luxury with only a snowman and a demon to talk to.

Maren exhaled sharply, and though she knew by now it wouldn’t do any good, she asked, “What’s the curse, Olaf?”

He clapped his hands over his mouth and shook his head.

“Come _on!_ ” She sat up, turning towards him, “She wouldn’t unmake you or something, would she?”

“I’m sorry, I promised!”

She got up and started to pace, trying to figure out if there was a way to get information without making Olaf break a promise. She didn’t _think_ Elsa would hurt him, but she didn’t want to risk it. “All right, fine. Lets try this a different way.”

Elsa had frozen her sister. Maren didn’t know how or why, only that it was as clear as day to her that Elsa cared about her and didn’t forgive herself. Additionally, the sculpture lacked horns or a tail, so her sister was human. Which meant that Elsa had probably originally been a human too. 

Her eyes flicked to the reindeer. “Besides our friend here, and Elsa’s sister, and the gentlemen upstairs, does the Queen have anyone else in her little collection?”

“Yeah, Sven.”

“I thought you said Sven was the reindeer.” 

“Yeah he’s also Sven.”

Okay. Maren rubbed the bridge of her nose, “Where is this Sven?”

“Outside, I think. We were counting when it all happened.”

Maren hadn’t seen any statues outside, but with the storm it was really possible that she’d missed him. Wait. “What happened when you were outside?”

Olaf opened his mouth, then closed it and tapped a finger against his chin. “Well since we’re not talking about the curse, I think that’s okay!”

He hopped off the couch and waddled over. Solemnly, he said. “I don’t know.”

Snowmen could still melt, and Maren was halfway to reaching down and throttling him before she caught herself. “Do you know _anything_?”

“Uhm. Anna went inside and told us to wait a minute. Then after like thirty seconds, the whole world went white. The storm came out of nowhere, Sven was frozen, other Sven was frozen but she brought him inside.”

“But you weren’t frozen?” Anna. So that was the name of Elsa’s sister. Elsa and Anna. That sounded better than Ryder and Honeymaren, anyway. 

“I’m already snow!”

“What happened after that?”

“That’s when Hans arrived with all the soldiers,” Olaf said. “He was talking about some kind of prophecy and bringing back summer.”

He went on a familiar tangent about summer, which Maren gritted her teeth through because there was usually no interrupting him when he got onto one of his favorite subjects. Finally, though, she managed to interject, “Prophecy?”

Olaf stiffened, intoning, “Your future is bleak. Your kingdom will splinter. Your land shall be cursed with unending winter. With blasts of cold will come dark art. And a ruler with a frozen heart. Then all will perish in snow and ice. Unless you are freed with a sword sacrifice.”

“Olaf!” 

Maren whirled around. Elsa stood in the doorway, gripping the frame so hard that Maren expected to see it crack. Her eyes were shadowed, but her expression was blank, her wings folded tightly against her back. Absently, Maren wondered how and why she’d hidden them at first. Like the rest of her, they were beautiful. “What did I _ask_ you?”

“Not to discuss the curse but you kind of didn’t say anything about the prophecy.” Olaf shrugged and pointed at her, adding, “That’s totally on you.”

Slightly, just slightly, Elsa’s expression softened. “Leave us.”

Olaf waddled out, Elsa stepping aside to let him past. He stopped next to her, then hugged her leg. Elsa glanced away, waiting until he let go and had left. 

Then she stalked towards Maren, and Maren backpedaled until her back was to the window. But she held her chin high. “Don’t be pissed. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on. For example, what does a sword sacrifice have to do with true love?”

“Troll prophecies never make any sen--” Elsa trailed off, tilting her head as her face twisted up in confusion. “Help me?”

“Yeah.” Maren stepped into Elsa’s personal space and swept her arms out. “I’m not stupid, Elsa. I don’t think your heart is as frozen as you like to pretend it is.”

Elsa regarded her for a moment, and Maren dared to touch her, putting her hand on her hip. 

“Are you an only child?” Elsa asked, putting her hand over Maren’s but not moving it.

“I’ve got a brother. And a lot of cousins,” Maren replied.

“How would you feel if you killed your brother?”

“Like my heart got ripped -- oh.” Maren gazed up at her, wondering if Elsa had done all this on purpose, or if it had all been some kind of tragic accident. “Is that why you’re up here all alone?”

“I came up here to get away from everyone. To protect my people from me.” Elsa’s expression darkened. “I’m dangerous, Honey.”

“So is flying an airplane but that never stopped me.” Honeymaren flashed a smile. “How long has it been since you’ve had human contact?”

Elsa’s eyes stared through her, to another time and another place, before she finally answered. “Before or after I killed my sister?”

Maren reached up, putting her hand on the boney leading edge of Elsa’s wing. She stroked it, each motion making Elsa shiver. “Since this? Becoming who you are now?”

“I spent thirteen years separated from Anna,” Elsa said, wing flexing under Maren’s hand. “But this, the curse…”

She laughed bitterly. “In a few weeks, it will have been fifty years since the curse. And after that, irreversible.”

Fifty years, alone, with only a snowman and the dead to talk to. Hell wasn’t a frigid wasteland. Hell was being in a frigid wasteland, alone. Elsa’s tail snuck up the side of Maren’s leg, wrapping around her thigh.

Maren slid her hand back up Elsa’s wing, then across her shoulder to the side of her neck. She remembered the way Elsa had touched her weeks ago, the barely restrained need that she now knew to be decades of aloneness. And she wanted to unleash that. “For a monster, you spend a lot of time holding back.”

Elsa leaned in, pressing her lips to Maren’s ear, voice husky. “Tempting fate?”

“Are you afraid?” 

She was shoved roughly against the window, Elsa’s tail unwrapping from her thigh only to disappear into her pants, the warm, slightly bumpy texture a pleasing shock on her skin. Sharp nails dug into her ass and even sharper teeth threatened to puncture her throat. Maren panicked and gasped, “ _Wait_!”

Elsa went perfectly, unnaturally still. Maren pulled her head back and peered into eyes that looked far more human than usual. Wide and blue, torn between concern and frustration and filled with desire. 

Some monster. Maren wasn’t even all that shocked. “You stopped.”

“You told me to wait,” Elsa rasped, body trembling. 

“Easy with the teeth,” Maren managed to say, swallowing as she watched Elsa’s tongue flick across her lower lip. The tail down her pants twitched, the tip stroking rapidly back and forth against her thigh and giving her _all_ kinds of ideas about where else it could go. But even more of a turn on was how she had this beautiful woman on the edge of madness and yet under her control.

Elsa probably thought it was supposed to be the other way around, and Maren was as happy to relinquish control as take it. Tangling her fingers in Elsa’s hair and careful of the dangerous points on those horns, she kissed her, her other hand sliding to a wing and stroking it, as if giving the demon a signal.

Like a rubber band snapping, Elsa lifted Maren up and pressed her bodily against the window. The ice was freezing against her back but the cold was the last thing on her mind as Elsa fumbled with her clothing. Her fingers didn’t seem to know what to do with the zipper in Maren’s jeans, so Maren let go of her hair to help.

The offending garment was quickly removed and discarded, before Elsa took some small mercy on Maren and carried her over to the couch, depositing her onto the cushions. Maren tugged her shirt off and then reached back to unfasten her bra, even while her eyes were busy drinking in the demon. 

Elsa’s dress misted away as though it had never been there, rising from her body in a million brilliant snowflakes. Maren wanted to touch her, caress and lick every inch of her skin, including the inhuman parts of her. When Elsa knelt on the couch, leaning over her, Maren stroked her face and then lifted her hands to Elsa’s horns. “May I?”

The only reaction was a quirk of Elsa’s eyebrows. Maren took that as a yes, and gently trailed her fingers along the horns. They were much rougher than Elsa’s wings or tail, feeling like old bones or even a little stone like. Maren found the way they curved fascinating, reminding her of the horns of a ram. Unlike her tail, or wings, Elsa didn’t react at all to the touch on her horns.

Maren dropped her hands down, fingers tracing the contours of Elsa’s face, and then her throat and her collarbone. Elsa’s skin pimpled under her touch, her eyes growing a little hooded. Lightly, Elsa traced her nails up Maren’s thighs, jolts of pleasure rippling through her. 

This close, she could see hints of freckles on Elsa’s pale skin and Maren hesitated, her hands hovering over breasts that were very much the perfect handfuls she’d envisioned. “Is this what you want?”

“What?” Elsa’s eyes snapped up to Maren’s face.

“Do you want this because you want this?”

Elsa’s throat bobbed, the first real sign of vulnerability or insecurity that Maren had seen. “I don’t know what will happen. Twenty-five years ago, I grew the wings. Forty, the tail. Fifty, the horns. I want this while I’m still human enough to enjoy it.”

“Love and lust run on parallel tracks but don’t always cross,” Maren warned, as much for her own sake as Elsa’s. She wondered if Elsa saw her arriving so close to that deadline as a sign of hope. 

She wondered why she felt so damn determined to give Elsa that hope.

“Have you ever?” Elsa put her hands over the tops of Maren’s and pressed them against her breasts, while her tail snaked up Maren’s legs and between her thighs.

Maren lost track of her thoughts, but managed to laugh. “Lust? Plenty of times. Love … Never.”

She laid back, pulling Elsa down on top of her, kissing her throat, and her shoulder. And then she felt Elsa’s tail, flicking and twisting, and Maren arched, throwing her head back with a soft cry. 

Teeth grazed across her skin, and soft lips, and strangely tender fingers and Honeymaren forgot that anything else existed.

Elsa’s hands stroked her shoulders and then across her breasts. Her cold fingers left trails of ice on Maren’s skin and Maren arched into the touch. She groaned deeply when a sharp, freezing nail flicked over her nipple.

“More,” She breathed, and to her surprise Elsa immediately obeyed, flicking again, leaning her head down and tracing her tongue in a tiny circle around the other nipple. Maren gasped, grabbing one of Elsa’s horns to guide her.

With nails as sharp as Elsa’s, being touched by her was risky. But she trailed them across Maren’s skin just light enough to not make her bleed, but hard enough to still leave trails of raised skin in their wake.

Sharp teeth nipped at her breast, pain and pleasure both sparking through Honeymaren and she demanded more, panting heavily, “You won’t break me, Elsa.”

The tip of Elsa’s tail moved back up Maren’s thigh, stroking and flicking at the tender flesh. Maren reached down with her hand, guiding the tail further up, holding Elsa’s head against her breast as she did so.

Something inside Elsa snapped, her body going taut against Maren’s, before her tail started to run in circles and patterns across Maren’s slick folds, then finding her clit and rubbing against it with muscles as strong as a tongue and much more flexible.

Maren cried out, hips bucking, and Elsa lifted her head to hiss, “You asked for that.”

“I kind of did, didn’t I.” Maren sank back onto the couch. She grinned up at Elsa, running her hands up her stomach to tease at her breasts. Another flick and twist of Elsa’s tail nearly sent her spiraling over the edge, but she fought against it, not wanting to be undone that easily.

But whatever nerves had made the demon so hesitant had seemed to melt away with Honeymaren’s need for her. One hand pushed Maren down by the shoulder, the other pawing at her breast, just as her tail pushed into her. Her wings flared, beautiful and erotic above Maren and if she had any sense left she would have reached for them, stroked them tenderly. She thought that Elsa would like that.

But Honeymaren came undone just like that, her body quaking and shuddering as she moaned. The tail moved around like a living thing, the end rapidly pressing and writhing against a rough spot inside Maren. She felt herself rising and rising, teetering on the edge all over again. Then she took Elsa’s hand and pulled it up to her throat.

Elsa’s nostrils flared, eyes widening in an interesting mix of confusion and desire.

“Trust you,” Maren rasped, letting go of Elsa’s hand and wrapping her arm around her shoulder.

The tail pulsed and the hand closed around her throat and Maren shattered, eyes almost rolling back into her head as the pleasure overtook her. Almost as quickly as Elsa’s hand had choked her, it loosened, icey eyes peering into hers.

Running her hands down Elsa’s body, Maren gripped her hips and pulled her up, until the demon was straddling her face. As she pulled her down and tasted her, Maren felt the tail moving in her again. 

It was going to be a long, _wonderful_ night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was gonna just be a FTB, then my beta was like 'how could you write demon elsa with no smut' and she was right so here we are!


	4. IV

After their erotic night in the sitting room, Maren spent most of the following nights in Elsa’s bed chambers. She could scarcely believe what she was doing, but she didn’t want to stop it for the world. Honeymaren could count the number of her lovers on one hand, but none of them had ever made her feel the way Elsa did, and not just how hard it usually was to walk after. But not always. For a demon, Elsa could sometimes be a tender lover.

Maren still didn’t know where Elsa’s wings went when she slept, but what she did _learn_ was that Elsa was a cuddler. It was actually oddly cute, though after the first night she nearly got her eyes gouged out by rolling over, Maren had fashioned little horn tip covers out of old wine corks. It took some coaxing, but Elsa had accepted the idea. As a bonus, it made it even cuter when Elsa slept.

She could almost, _almost_ forget her situation. But not quite. Honeymaren was trapped. The endless storm, the worry about her family, this curse that kept Elsa trapped within the walls of her own palace, if she let herself think about it too long or too much it drove her to distraction. Maren didn’t even know where the _food_ came from. The ice box was always stocked, there was always bread and wine and mead.

Once, to satisfy her curiosity, Maren had removed some bread, pretended to leave, and then rushed back in, only to find that it had been restocked. But there’d been no sign of anyone doing the restocking, which was impossible anyway with the storm. Magic. The same magic that made Elsa look demonic, that animated a snowman and kept a woman frozen to the spot in the foyer. She wanted to know who had cursed Elsa, but suspected it had been Elsa who’d done so.

Breakfast and dinner, at least, were less awkward than they had been at first. Maren could get Elsa to laugh on occasion and more than once she caught Elsa staring at her. She’d even gone as far as to share stories of the antics she and her brother had gotten up to and Maren had seen the agony in Elsa’s eyes. She would have stopped, to spare Elsa that pain, except she craved the stories of sibling misadventures and bonding and almost pleaded for them; in so much as she was capable of a plea.

How anyone could see this woman as a monster was _beyond_ her. Or it should have been, if society was a little kinder. But society could be cruel and vicious. Honeymaren bore the scars from barbs thrown her way, from comments and side eyes and the occasional fight.

She thought about that, one night, watching as Elsa stretched on the edge of the bed. Thought about how the world might react to a demon in their midst, and a lesbian one at that. An all too familiar pain gripped her chest, filling Maren with a sense of dread and a real, genuine fear for this woman. 

Slowly, she reached over, running her fingers down Elsa’s spine, and then leaned in and kissed the back of her shoulders. And then she kissed the curve of her wing, which had seemed to grow larger in recent days. Demon or not, Honeymaren would do her best to shield Elsa from the stones, both literal and figurative.

Elsa shivered, leaning back against her. “Honey…”

God, when had she started to like that? The way Elsa seemed to wrap her tongue around the word made Maren want to lose her mind. “When … when is the fifty years up?”

Elsa stiffened. “A week from tomorrow.”

Gently, Maren rubbed her shoulders and wingtips, caressing and stroking them until Elsa had relaxed again. “I’ve been poring through all your books, questioning Olaf, and doing a lot of thinking. In stories, curses like that are often kind of … they can be misleading. They aren’t always literal. A bit like making a wish and not knowing how it might be granted.”

“What are you saying.” One of Elsa’s wings twitched, and Maren ran her finger tips down its length. The tail twitched too, the tip flicking back and forth.

Maren was still trying to figure out what the tail twitching actually meant, and the difference between Elsa being in a good mood versus being in a bad mood. It felt a lot like dealing with her ex-girlfriend’s cat.

“I don’t know, but…” Maren frowned. “I keep trying to think what it means by sword sacrifice, and how that can relate to true love.”

Elsa turned her head, smiling at her. It was a little bit of a sad smile, and very unlike the first few times she’d seen Elsa smile. The faux cruelty was absent. “A sword sacrifice must involve a sword. Perhaps I simply need someone to run me through, and that will break the curse.”

“What? No!” Maren stared at her, ice gripping her heart. She’d never kill _anyone_ and she wasn’t going to start now, not now that she’d found--

“I don’t need your help for it! I’ve been planning this since long before you came. I will fall on a sword, as I should have allowed to happen fifty years ago. And then the storm will subside. The ice will melt. You’ll be free.”

“Elsa, you _can’t_.”

“You’ve reminded me what it was like to be human. To be around someone who’s kind and caring. To _be_ kind and caring. You gave me a gift and I don’t want to lose that. I’d rather die first.”

“Olaf loves you, you know,” Maren said. She got up and came around to stand in front of Elsa. “And you’re kind to him, even when you don’t realize I’m around.”

“What?” Elsa’s head snapped up, and if it weren’t for the corks on her horns she would have gutted Maren. Her eyes widened and she pressed her hands to Maren’s stomach, even though the only damage was some redness from the friction. As if a monster would care about hurting someone on accident.

“I caught you reading to Olaf once or twice,” Maren said. For the first time, she noticed that Elsa’s eyes had a faint glow to them. Considering how often she stared into them it had to have been recent. 

“I hadn’t done that in years,” Elsa admitted. “Read to him.”

Maybe, Maren thought, if she’d come into Elsa’s life sooner, they could have thawed her in time. She could easily see herself falling in love with her. She may be just a little in love with her already. She reached over, taking Elsa’s wings and moving them so the two women were encased in them. She dropped to her knees and rested her hands on Elsa’s. “You’re not going to fall on any swords. There’s another solution, there has to be, another kind of sacrifice. I refuse to believe the world is that cruel.”

And yet it was cruel, Maren knew that, but… Despite the glow, Elsa’s eyes almost seemed warm. Maren touched her cheek. “ _Besides_ your life, what would you give for the person you loved?”

“For Anna? Everything,” Elsa whispered. “I’d snap off my horns, I’d even cut my wings and my tail off, and I _love_ them, they’re the only change I really loved. But I would _die_ for her, Honey. If I could bring her back, I would die for _her_.”

Maren moved her hand to the membrane of Elsa’s wing. “They’re beautiful.” She clenched her jaw, trying to imagine Elsa cutting them off. The blood, the pain, and a very real grief, far worse than she’d felt at losing her plane. She didn’t want that.

In the darkness within the safety of Elsa’s wings, she smiled grimly, reminding Maren of the Elsa she’d first met. The mask of a monster she’d worn. Slowly, Maren stood, then kissed her and tried to remind her she was human. “I’d cut off my own leg to keep Ryder safe. So I understand.”

“Nothing will bring her back.” Elsa stood as well, but before she could lock the mask back in place, Maren grabbed her by the face and made her look down at her.

“How do you know? What if she’s still in there? She’s so _perfectly_ preserved, Elsa. If we can find a way, maybe we can help you both.”

“I can’t, I can’t have that hope.” Growling, Elsa pushed Maren aside, firmly, but not roughly. “I’m going to fly.” She waved her hand, the window blowing open and filling the room with sudden, frigid wind. Maren yelped, grabbing the blanket and wrapping it around herself. Elsa looked at her, just once, her face as cold as the blizzard outside, and then ran and jumped out. Maren ran after her, just in time to see the gale-force winds carry Elsa’s nude form away into the darkness.

With some effort, Maren got the window mostly closed, jamming something in to keep it in place but still open enough that Elsa could get back inside when she was done being moody. Then Maren dressed and retreated to parts of the palace that were warmer. Elsa pushing her away had hurt her more than she wanted to acknowledge, but there was nothing she could do about that now.

She descended the stairs first, walking carefully to the still form of Anna. She stared into sightless eyes, then brushed the back of her hand along Anna’s cheek. “If I was Elsa, I probably would be down here often, talking to you. Olaf is good company, but there are a lot of things you can’t talk to him about. A bit like trying to talk to my five year old cousin.”

Maren dropped her hand to her side, studying Anna’s face. She could see Elsa’s features there. They weren’t twins, not like her and Ryder, but they were definitely siblings. “I can’t imagine what it would be like, stuck here for fifty years. I can’t stay in one place for all that long as it is. But the world has changed a lot in that time. We get out of here and there’s gonna be so much to show you both.”

She didn’t know when she’d decided that helping Elsa and Anna were the same thing. It wasn’t like she’d actually _met_ Anna. But Olaf had talked about her, and, late at night, she’d gotten Elsa to tell her about her as well. “She’s convinced she’ll lose her humanity in a week. I’m scared for her. I think I’m…”

Even though Anna couldn’t possibly be able to hear her, Maren snapped her mouth shut, and pressed a hand to her heart. She started to turn away, and then stopped when she thought she saw a puff of air from Anna. Maren stared for a moment longer, then shook her head. “I think I’m losing my mind.”

Naturally, Anna didn’t respond to this either, and Honeymaren walked away, arms wrapped around herself and deep in thought. 

True love could thaw a frozen heart. But the prophecy required a sword sacrifice. It would, in a perverse way, be an act of true love to fall on a sword for one’s sister. But there had to be another way.

There had to be. Honeymaren got a determined look on her face, and walked around the second floor of the palace until she found what she was looking for. Perhaps the most innocent person she’d ever met. “Olaf? What does the word sacrifice mean to you?”


	5. V

Elsa didn’t return that evening. Or the next day. Or the day after that. Despite her absence, or maybe because of it, the storm grew worse. Honeymaren had lived through a few blizzards before, but this one put them all to shame. The wind’s howling had turned to a roar, and the one time she dared try to get out the front doors it felt like her arms were nearly ripped out of their sockets just getting the doors closed again.

After the third day, she was torn between being worried, and being _angry_. If she was, as Elsa said, helping her feel _human_ , then she was sure wasting a lot of the time she had left. Time they could spend together, time they could figure out a solution.

Maybe, just maybe, the bed just felt extra lonely now.

Maren had a few ideas that had been dancing around her mind, but she couldn’t test any of them without Elsa. The only thing she could do was try to put her thoughts into one place. Which was why she was standing in front of the wall in the sitting room, a dozen papers pinned to the wall with string connecting related ideas.

There were a number of papers with crossed out ideas, including conveniently finding a Prince, and lutefisk, the latter helpfully added by Olaf. If someone made a curse where the solution was _lutefisk_ , that person was literally Satan.

“What if ‘sword’ is symbolic,” Maren murmured, leaning back against a couch and staring at her murder wall. 

“What if it just means giving up your favorite sword,” Olaf suggested. “Your trusty weapon that’s been with you through thick and thin!” His voice took on the air of a storyteller, “You've seen it through every challenge, it fits perfectly in your hand, there's a jewel that you imbued with all of your hopes and dreams which you rescued from a ferocious dragon!” 

Olaf struck a valiant pose, holding his left arm in his right hand like the blade of legend that he spoke of. “This sword is an extension of your very soul! And you must. Let. It. _Go_.”

“Not a bad thought,” Maren replied, genuinely impressed at the idea. “But does Elsa even have a sword like that?”

“Not that I know of.”

So Maren came back around to symbolism. And the idea of how sacrifice could mean different things to different people. When she’d asked Olaf, it had meant being willing to melt if he had to, for someone he loved. Which wasn’t much different from Elsa’s idea of falling on one of the soldier’s swords, depressingly enough. But Olaf had also said that sacrifice meant giving up something important to you. 

Like your airplane or your favorite sword or your hopes and dreams. Letting go of something that was an extension of yourself, for the sake of someone else.

“Oh, I don’t like that idea.” Regardless of her own feelings on the matter, Maren scribbled something on a page with trembling hands, and pinned it to the wall. 

Maren’s stomach grumbled, and she pushed off of the couch. “Lets go make a sandwich.”

“Sounds great! Anna always did love sandwiches.”

She stared at Olaf as he walked alongside her, “How do you know that? From what I understand, you only really knew her for a few hours before everything went bad.”

“I guess I just have a good read on people,” Olaf said confidently. “But Elsa _made_ me for Anna. When they were children. I guess I’ve got a little bit of both of them in me.”

Smiling, Maren reached down and took Olaf’s hand. “You want to know something, Olaf? I think I’ve got a good read on people too.”

“Yeah?”

“If Elsa can make someone like you, then there’s something good inside of her. I’ve seen glimpses of it. If she really wanted to hurt me, if she was actually _evil_ , she would have done something by now.” Something deep inside _Maren_ shifted, a feeling like ice in her veins and creeping towards her heart. A small kernel of doubt that maybe she was wrong.

Was that why Elsa hadn’t returned? Because she planned to leave Maren here alone, with only a snowman and frozen bodies for company? Maren reminded herself that Elsa would not leave her sister forever, if nothing else.

“I hope she comes back soon,” Olaf said.

“Me too.” She poked around the kitchen. “Olaf, I’ve noticed that when I have dinner with Elsa, the meals kind of just … appear. Do you know how that happens?”

“Yep!”

When he didn’t continue, she prompted, “What happens?”

“What? Oh! Elsa does the cooking.”

Honeymaren nearly cut off her own fingers while slicing a loaf of bread. “I’m sorry, _Elsa_ cooks?”

“Yeah, who else would? I’d just melt!”

Maren checked her hand for injury, then set the knife down. “What … did she do before I arrived? Did she cook those elaborate breakfasts and dinners?” The only meals they shared together on a regular basis, in fact.

“I think she usually just did what you’re doing. A sandwich, or cereal or oatmeal, or whatever. Once a year she’ll bake a cake, in the summer.” Olaf rubbed his chin. “Never saw her eat it, she just lets me have it. But it’s never on my birthday! I get a cupcake on my birthday.”

“Do you know when Anna’s birthday is?” Maren asked, turning away from the food to look down at Olaf.

“In the summer.” Olaf’s eyes went wide. “ _Oh_! Well that’s kind of heartbreaking.”

“We’ve got to figure this curse out, Olaf. Your … mother isn’t a monster now, and I don’t believe she ever was to begin with.”

“What about that note you wrote? Your idea about a sword sacrifice?” 

Maren grimaced, “It’s the best idea we’ve had but--”

A crashing interrupted her, and she rushed out of the kitchen and down the hallway to the stairs in time to see the front doors slam open. Elsa stalked in and the doors closed behind her. She looked taller than Maren remembered, her horns longer and with an extra loop to them. They were also darker in color and rougher in texture.

Her legs had changed too, morphed and twisted into something more resembling that of a goat or horse than a human, and her tail was longer and thicker at the base, while her beloved wings had increased in span.

Elsa was nude, her skin encased in a thin layer of cracking ice, and under it her pale skin looked harder and textured. But it was the _eyes_ that captured Honeymaren’s attention. Both sockets glowed a bright blue, like shining sapphires set into Elsa’s head.

Realizing she was still holding the knife, Maren handed it to Olaf and ran for the stairs. “Elsa, you’re back!”

She was halfway down before she realized that Elsa had flinched from her. Slowing her speed, Maren approached Elsa cautiously, holding her hands, palms out. “Hey. I missed you, sweetheart.”

“You _missed_ me?” Her voice was still human, still that beautiful haunting sound, though the angles of her face seemed sharper.

“I did.” Maren stopped in front of Elsa, peering up at her. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come back.” Slowly, she lifted her hand and cupped Elsa’s face. She felt so _cold_ , “Were you afraid of my reaction?”

Elsa snorted, but leaned into her hand. “We’re getting closer. Soon I’ll be changed completely.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Maren promised. She leaned up on her toes and kissed Elsa. After a moment’s hesitation, Elsa kissed back and sighed into Maren’s mouth.

Too soon, she pulled away, attention wandering to Anna’s frozen form. “At least she’ll never see me like this. She died before she realized exactly how much of a monster I am.”

It was futile, but Maren tried anyway, “Elsa, stop that.”

Wings folding on her back, Elsa stepped past Maren and marched up the stairs.

*******

The first day after Elsa returned, she tried to keep to herself but Maren refused to let her. When she wasn’t near Elsa, she made sure Olaf was. Constant reminders that she was still human, still loved.

And still wanted, as Maren proved that night, Elsa as receptive and responsive as she’d ever been. 

The second day, Honeymaren was woken by Elsa thrashing in the bed. Wings knocked her off and onto the ground, and she carefully avoided getting clocked by a violently lashing tail. After a few minutes, Elsa lay tangled in the sheets and blanket, apparently unable to hide her wings any longer.

Growling in dismay, she tore at the sheets until she was free and then stood, using her magic to dress. Before Honeymaren could say a word, she fled the bedroom. 

Without magic, Maren took a few moments longer to get dressed before she could chase after Elsa. She caught sight of her on the balcony overlooking Anna, before Elsa spread her wings and jumped off. 

“Elsa!”

Elsa looked up as Maren reached the railing, a crazed look in her eyes. She said nothing, merely turned towards her sister. Slowly, she walked towards her frozen sister until she stood above her. Maren could barely see Anna beyond Elsa’s outstretched wings, but she could see Elsa lift her hands. 

Elsa grasped her horns by the base with her hands and stared into Anna’s eyes. The muscles in her arms and neck strained, her teeth gritting as a sound like cracking bone echoed around the ice.

The scream that ripped from Honeymaren’s throat was drowned out by the roar of pain from Elsa. The sound echoed throughout the chamber for several moments before it faded away. In the ensuing silence, Elsa dropped her horns. They clattered on the floor and slid away from her as if they were repelled by some magic. Then Elsa fell to her knees before Anna, pressing her face against her sister’s stomach and wrapping her arms around her.

Heedless of any danger to herself, Maren ran to Elsa’s side and put an arm on her shoulder. “What are you _doing_?!”

“What if you’re right?” Elsa asked, voice rough with emotion. “What if Anna is still in here? What if falling on my sword is not enough to bring her back, not the sacrifice I’m supposed to make?”

“Elsa…”

Elsa’s wings flexed, and then she stood. “I saw what you were working on.”

Maren’s throat closed up and she was unable to speak. Slowly, gently, as if scared, Elsa lifted her hands to Maren’s face. “If it fails, then nothing will be lost and I will do as I planned. But if it succeeds, maybe … maybe I can see her again.”

“I don’t want you to die,” Maren finally managed to say. “There’s so much I want to show you. The world isn’t like it was fifty years ago. I just can’t imagine walking out of this castle without you. I--”

Say it. Say it _say it_. Maren’s heart screamed at her but the words stuck in her throat and the only thing that came out was a high pitched hrk.

“What?”

Maren closed her eyes and put her hand over Elsa’s heart. At least, where she thought her heart was. “I love you.”

A small, plaintive sound escaped Elsa and when Honeymaren opened her eyes she could see tears streaking down the demon’s face. “I don’t understand _why_.”

“Love is funny that way,” Honeymaren said.

Elsa nodded, then pulled away. She started to circle her sister, and when she returned to Honeymaren’s side, she held a sword made from ice in her hands. She offered it, hilt first, to Honeymaren. “You know what to do.”

“I don’t want to do this.” Honeymaren took the sword anyway, blinking as her eyes watered. She reached out with her other hand, caressing Elsa’s face, and her shoulders and running her fingers along her wings. Elsa watched her, then got down onto her knees and bowed her head, stretching her wings out.

“Oh _God_.” Had Elsa spoken? Or were those Honeymaren’s thoughts caught in her throat. She lifted the sword, and then brought it down. Once, and then twice.

Blood splattered the ice beneath her feet, Elsa’s cry of anguish ripping through Maren like a bullet through her chest. The light went out, leaving them in darkness, before a new light kindled in the center of the room. 

In the center of Anna’s chest. 

It spread from there, her torso thawing and then her limbs and her head. Anna gasped, dropping to her knees as though her legs were made of jelly. Sunlight streamed through the windows as the storm faded away, like it had never raged in the first place.

Hands shaking, Honeymaren looked down at the sight of Elsa curled on the ice, framed by severed wings on either side of her and her sister collapsed before her. She dropped the sword and it shattered when it hit the ground.

Taking an unsteady step, and then another, Maren closed the short distance between herself and the sisters. 

Anna pushed herself up on her hands and knees. She reached for her sister, taking her head and pulling it into her lap. “Elsa…?”

Elsa turned her head up, eyes fluttering open, with nary the hint of a glow to them. “Anna?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Anna laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to Elsa’s hornless brow. “It’s me and I’m okay.”

“I love you, Anna. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for everything.”

“I love you too. I forgive you.”

Fresh tears started to run down Elsa’s face.

Maren dropped to her knees next to them, trailing her eyes down Elsa’s body. Her skin was normal, and so were her legs and feet. The only signs she’d been anything other than human were scars on her back where her wings had been, “Nice to meet you, Anna. I’m Honeymaren.”

Anna smoothed her hand down Elsa’s hair. “Oh, we’ve already met.” She gazed at her sister, “I’ve been here all along.”

“What … now?” Elsa murmured, eyes closing again.

“First, you rest,” Honeymaren said. “You two need some time to talk, and I’m sure Olaf will be happy to see Anna. I’m going to find what’s left of my plane and see if I can’t salvage the radio.”

She leaned over, kissing Elsa’s cheek. “Twenty-twenty is going to be a hell of a trip for you two.”

One of Elsa’s eyes opened and she squinted it at Honeymaren. “What? It’s eighteen-ninety, I thought.”

Honeymaren stared at her. “Then you’ve been trapped in here a lot longer than fifty years. Or something brought you forward to meet me. Unless…”

Unless … the flash of light. The storm from nowhere. Honeymaren suddenly wondered if there’d be anyone listening on the other end of that radio if she’d gotten it to work. 

“We’ll worry about what year it is later,” Anna suggested. “Let’s get Elsa to bed, and then I’m going to eat an entire cow all by myself.”

Carefully, Maren pulled Elsa up and lifted her into her arms. With Anna’s help, she got Elsa up the stairs, and then carried her to her room. The effort at least stopped her from worrying about ever seeing her brother again.

As they made Elsa comfortable in her bed, Honeymaren happened to glance out the open window, at the bright blue sky shining down at them. There were a few clouds, the happy wispy kind that Maren always loved flying through.

Far above and in the distance, she could just make out the contrails from an airliner. Smiling, she turned her attention back to Elsa, and sat on the bed. Her smile faltered when she realized Elsa was looking at her. “I’m sorry about your wings. And your tail.”

“They were the sacrifice. To have Anna. To have you.” She took their hands in her own. “You don’t need to be sorry. I asked you to.”

“Yes, well.” Maren lifted Elsa’s hand to her lips. “When you’re feeling better, after I radio for help. I’ll take you flying with me.”

“You don’t have wings,” Anna pointed out.

Maren’s smile returned. “Not right now. But I will. Neither of you are trapped anymore. You’re _free_ , and I’ll be able to take you anywhere you want.”

“Uhm, Hello?!”

A voice outside drew Maren’s attention. Anna sat up straighter, eyes wide. “Oh my god, _Kristoff_!”

“I’ll go get him,” Maren said, getting to her feet. “And then I guess I’m making a lot of sandwiches.”

She started to go, but Elsa caught her hand. She met Elsa’s eyes, those same seas of blue that had enraptured her from the very first day.

“I love you,” Elsa said.

“I know,” Honeymaren replied. “It’s one of the things that makes you human.”

But just one of many. She let go of Elsa’s hand, and headed out to meet this Kristoff fellow. And from the sound of it, the reindeer too.


End file.
